Personal Narrative: My Honorable Woman

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In the year of eighteen hundred and ninety six, for a woman at my age to still be living the life of a miss is highly ‘unlady-like’ of me, especially in the heart of the South – Savannah, Georgia. For the most part, my family has me all done up like porcelain doll. Always making sure I am ‘Wedding ready’ as my aunt Martha likes to say. Martha is a kind and noble woman but let me make this very clear those are her words not mine. In my eyes most of what she has to say is redundant. I personally can never tell if the woman is fond of me or thinks I am the spawn of the devil here to fill her daughter‘s head with ideas of a sinful life. Martha speaks to me like she just realized the lemon she bit into is sour. Face always scrunched with nose
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